


Inside

by yeaka



Category: Murdoch Mysteries
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-15
Updated: 2014-11-15
Packaged: 2018-02-25 10:22:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2618363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As usual, Julia turns grey skies blue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inside

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This isn't historically accurate. Drabble for heatheryourfellowfangirl’s “Jilliam married life” request on [my tumblr](http://yeaka.tumblr.com/).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Murdoch Mysteries or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

It’s miserable out the window: pure grey and thick water, too opaque to see even to the street. It was sunny yesterday, but they were both working then. It seems just William’s luck that the one time they actually plan something romantic, the Toronto skies open up in protest. 

Julia’s gone for breakfast in just her robe, slipping off without a word. William means to follow—she probably expected him to—but something about the raging storm outside holds him in its spell. It’s terrible timing, but they’ve never had it easy. If they had gone, a dog probably would’ve carried a severed arm onto their picnic blanket, or something of the sort. They can never seem to have that sacred alone time that most couples cherish. They didn’t before their vows, they didn’t even on their wedding day, and they don’t now that they’re married. With a sigh, William reaches for the drawstring of the curtains, accepting yet another defeat. 

“Oh, do leave them open,” Julia’s voice chimes over his shoulder, lilting and sweet with a spirit no one should have on a day like this. He glances over his shoulder to see her bustling in, the large, packed basket they prepared last night held vicariously in her arms. “The rain does such lovely things to the light, don’t you think?” 

William spares another look at the rain, the shimmering light effect it gives having never occurred to him, but of course he has to nod and say, “Yes, I suppose.” Because he can never really say _no_ to Julia, not when she’s smiling like that. 

She crosses the bedroom, and William turns expectantly, but she stops short and halts at the foot of the bed, dropping the basket down. It tilts, lopsided in the mattress, the blankets not a firm enough support system to hold it properly erect. Julia doesn’t seem to mind. She flicks the woven top open and smoothes out the blankets around it, reaching in to unload their wrapped sandwiches and jars of fruit. It’s hardly an appropriate scene for the bedroom, but then, Julia’s never bothered much with being appropriate. 

It’s one of the many, many things William loves about her. He can feel himself grinning as he walks back to the bed. “Julia, what on Earth are you doing?”

“Having a picnic. What does it look like?” She glances up from her work long enough to give him a coy smile, then returns to arranging their treats on limited dishes. When he doesn’t answer, instead preferring to loosen his tie and shrug off the unbuttoned sweatervest he won’t need in his own bed, she goes on; “Honestly, William. We’ve been planning this trip all week; I’m not about to let a little rain stop us.”

Somewhere in the distance, thunder claps to war the ‘little’ claim. William just shakes his head. Down to his pants and a white cotton shirt, he takes his seat at the head of the bed, arms open in the hope that Julia will join him. 

She finishes up her picnic display: an attractive, quaint little lunch that could easily be out in a grass field instead. Then she unties the sash from her silken robe and lets it slink off her body, pooling on the floor and leaving her in the thin, white nightgown that makes her look so very much like an angel. Her golden hair only completes the picture, gathered over her shoulder in a bowed ribbon, messy as always. She looks just as beautiful that way as she does with full preparation. The way she looks at him tells him that she knows it, but he still feels the need to say, “You look wonderful.”

She giggles like it’s out of the blue. William’s always loved her laughter—it’s so high and pure and childlike, even though it comes from a full, confident, mature woman. All her juxtaposed anomalies only enhance her marvels. 

She settles next to him on the bed, lifts the nearest plate up, and offers him one of the tiny squares atop it. With her knees folded and resting against his, she drapes her body half across his, plucks up a corner piece and asks, “Sandwich, Mr. Ogden?”

William just laughs and opens his mouth, delighted when she feeds him.


End file.
